Night Scene
by Kristina Marie
Summary: Character intropection.  Warning:  NOT a comedy.  Takes place outside the castle one night after a particularly brutal attack by the Drules.


Night Scene

Just a warning: unlike much of my other writing, this is NOT a humor piece. Feel free to leave your thoughts and critiques (politely, please!). The only way to improve in writing is to listen to your audience!

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A dark figure slipped quietly out of the postern gate, closing the door, reactivating the alarm, then moving quietly toward the lake near the castle. A bulging backpack gave the person an odd silhouette, had anyone besides the night creatures crept near enough to see. Dark grey, not black, clothing and silent footsteps completed the near illusion of invisibility.

Watchers would have a difficult time seeing the form as it slipped in and out of the few shadows around the castle.

The figure shrugged off the heavily laden backpack upon arriving at the shore of the lake and set it down carefully upon the sand. Opening the flaps revealed a large picture frame, a small box, and a large square bottle. The bottle opened easily with no need for an opener for the already loosened cork. Slowly, the shadow sat upon the damp sand, placing the picture frame to the right side, and the box upon thighs.

No movement happened for many minutes when a watcher would see the bottle lift toward the face of the figure and remain there for long moments. The box lay unopened.

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A small alert crossed the screen at the control room as one of the alarms on an outside door deactivated and reactivated. One of the guards on watch alerted the watch commander. Walking over to the station, the watch commander frowned at the screen and then asked for a visual of the area. The two watched as a hard-to-see figure emerged from the castle, and proceeded to walk to the lake. The figure kept to the shadows, and only the recent security upgrades allowed them to track its progress. The watch commander scratched the stubble of the day as the person sat in the wet sand and emptied the backpack of most of its contents and then simply remained sitting.

As the figure raised a bottle upward, the watch commander nodded and then checked the duty roster before sending a message to the on-call member of the Force. When the sleepy voice sounded, the commander relayed the information and waited for a reply. A long pause followed the report before a quiet 'Thank You, I will take care of the situation," emerged. "If no one has reentered the castle in an hour, please call me again."

The watch commander agreed, and the night crew at the command center began a countdown.

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Hunk walked as loudly as possible toward the figure still sitting nearly motionless by the beach except for a steady movement of a bottle to and from the mouth. The person did not even acknowledge his presence. Hunk watched as the silhouette upended the bottle to catch any stray drops before knees bent and the bottle dangled between the upturned knees from two fingers of the right hand while forearms rested on the knees.

"Ho," Hunk greeted his friend, stopping next to the statue-like figure, hands in pockets, legs spread as though bracing against a strong wind.

Only a grunt answered him.

"Been out here some time, by my count. Night crew started to worry a bit several hours ago, and kept beeping me. Finally told them if you had not come in by this time, I would come out." Hunk paused and watched as the bottle swung gently back and forth, almost hypnotically. Putting his thumbs in his pockets, the large man swayed slightly, as though comforting his young son, just a month old. The two did not talk for several minutes, watching the play of the moonlight on the gently rippling water. As the minutes passed, the night creatures which had fallen silent when Hunk approached began again their chorus; frog-like creatures with their croaks and groans, the chirrups of insects and the soft sounds of the winged predators who chased them.

"Gavin finally fell asleep, oh just about two seconds before control beeped again. Thought that Lenna was going to perform a miracle and rip out the Watch Commander's voice box through the line. She gave me two options; either grow my own mammary glands in about thirty seconds and comfort Gavin, or come out and join you." The large man smiled and ran a hand through his hair, "Gave it a thought for about two seconds and decided Lenna's scarier right now." He chuckled and looked out the corner of his eye at the figure still sitting motionless except for the bottle swinging back and forth. "Besides, Nanny threatened to terminate my kitchen privileges should Lenna become unhappy."

Hunk bent down and picked up a stone. Standing straight, he began to toss the stone from hand to hand continuing the light-hearted conversation. "Figure my family knows about Gavin by now, and we should hear a response back in the next few weeks. Mom is probably trying to finagle a way here to come and visit her newest grandchild. Dad'll probably put as stop to that one. He could not stand to have her gone for the year or more it would take to make the trip worthwhile. Dad would either have to cook for himself, heaven forbid, or break open the locks on his wallet to pay for some help in the house. Since that will not work, next thing you know, he will be calling the clan to come and help him solve the issue of travel speeds or how to set new worm holes at closer junctions. Course, that will just lead to my family having the dueling white boards. Did I tell you what they did before we shipped out here? Well, Danny had decided to prove once and for all time his theory regarding the origin of the worm holes just _had_ to be correct. . . . . . "

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The time had not come for an identity, not yet. No name. No gender. Nothing. Just the sound of Hunk's ramblings washing over the form, soothing away some of the spiky edges. The ferocious burn of the alcohol had faded, leaving a pleasant feeling of floating. The empty bottle swung gently back and forth from hands disconnected from the body. It had taken most of the night to achieve this blessed state of nothingness. Alcohol tolerance and a fast metabolism did not mesh well with achieving that state.

A glimmer of thought fought to make its presence known through the haze of alcohol and exhaustion only for the mind to ruthlessly push it back into the far recesses of "not yet." The dreams would come again, and the voices would question endlessly every choice, every decision, and then the dead would begin their silent, accusing walk. For now, the bottle swung gently back and forth, and the soothing ramblings of Hunk flowed through the background.

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Hunk watched his friend; continuing to talk lightheartedly and flitting from subject to subject like a hummingbird gathering nectar, not completely unconcerned, yet not really worried. A massive attack by Doom had cost many good men and women during the last few weeks, and only a need for the attacking force to regroup and gather more supplies accounted for this unforeseen break. Lenna had spent the week in the catacombs with Gavin, with no protest. His fierce lioness put the protection of their son foremost and would not allow both of his parents to fly into danger. Of course, she could not sit and let the Drules attack without fighting anyway she could. His marvelous spouse had ignored the fact she had given birth only a few weeks before, strapped Gavin into a sling and worked repairing equipment right alongside the rest of the engineers. She had even managed to put a side board on her mechanics board. Drake had reported she talked Gavin through the repairs as she made them, and had gathered an audience of some of the smaller children who wanted to learn how to help.

The yellow pilot sighed at the thought of the 'poor tykes' who had grown knowing only war and never knowing true safely. Yet in the resilient way of children, they found games to play, laughter and joy in the strangest places. Lenna had found a way for the children to help with some of the smaller repairs and even the youngest could sort pieces for the grown-ups to use. By the end of the week, each engineer or mechanic had one or two helpers and the apprenticeship of many of the older children began. Tsuyoshi could burst with the pride he felt in his bride.

"Oh, Lenna just told me a couple hours ago some of our youngsters have so taken to some of the mechanics, they have taken to following "their" mechanic around and even finding old overalls, too big a'course, to wear. Seems some of those wi' no other families have adopted big brothers and sisters. Nanny has started facilitating some rearrangements of quarters and those who want to make a more formal declaration of kinship to the youngsters can move out of the barracks into family style quarters. The masons have put in overtime to make the necessary changes to the structures for these kids. I tell ya, it just warms my heart to see hope in them kids' eyes again. 'Course Lenna has her favorites, and Jilly and Joe have decided Lenna needs help with Gavin, so right now they have started bunkin' in Gavin's room. Magda offered to find us new quarters, but the kids have decided they like Gavin's room just fine, and that way he never has to wake up alone or be afraid of the dark."

Hunk fell silent for a few minutes contemplating the changes which had happened in his life in the last year. From a lonely pilot always feeling like the fifth or seventh wheel to finding the love of his life and now his family of three children. He imagined Lenna would have a couple more following her home in the next few weeks. The thought made his heart almost hurt it felt so full. Eventually they would have a litter running around and Magda would have to find new quarters for them, but for now, a big puppy pile of kids suited Hunk just fine.

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Even in an inebriated stated, the mind still absorbed all the information Hunk offered and stored it away for inspection at a later time. Now, only the unfeeling dream mattered. No questions needing answers. No responsibilities to anyone else; just floating, watching the moon bounce off the nearly still surface of the lake. The occasional fish jumping, causing ripples to float across the surface, dancing with the moonlight. Small points of impact broadening and spreading until all energy dissipates back into the lake.

Wispy almost-thoughts flit across the surface of the mind, studiously ignored. The breeze brought scents of water, dirt, and something of wildness tamed. Water lapped in the breeze against the stones of the shore creating the melodies which did not change with the passing of eons. What matters to the stone? Nothing. It sits; changed one molecule at a time by the water and wind. It never ceases to exist only changes form.

The bottle has not ceased its rhythmic swinging from the disembodied hand. The moonlight glints of the metallic colors of the label, small flashes of silver like a burst behind the eyelids. The brown of the bottle shines a deep mahogany in the cool silver of the night undimmed by man-made light.

The light reflects off the glass in the picture frame, slowly moving across the surface and highlighting different portions of the portrait. Color dims to shades of black in the muted light, and bright whites shine forth as the moon passes overhead. The spotlight finds an ear, then an eye, then teeth, captured and frozen forever in a moment of giddiness.

Eyes move back to follow the moon in its journey through the lake, but return as though the picture has become a lodestone for them. Noticed, but ignored, a tear tracked down a cheek followed by a second and a third. They follow the jaw line to the chin, joining together, hanging for an eternal moment before falling onto the box held securely between thighs and stomach; the bottle never ceasing its movements.

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Hunk squatted on the wet sand, arms resting on thighs, hands dangling between his spread knees. The stone in his hand starting rolling over the knuckles of his hands in sequence, right then left, then back again. "You know, when I first found out about this place, the hunt for dead or extinct technology, I did not think we would find people here. Hell, we have seen what the Drules do to planets. Strip every resource, leaving behind desert wastes with almost no life remaining. They would suck out the very air if they could invent a giant vacuum and ship large enough to store it. So when Garrison approached Darrell and me about coming on the mission, we took it as a vacation and a chance to play with alien technology."

"Then we arrived and found not only the technology, but the remains of proud strong people, a functioning, if small government, and a people who survived despite the odds. We found a planet not subjugated but actively resisting the Drules. They fought with clubs, spears, and weaponry outdated when my Grandmother fought in Solar Wars. We found something here I never expected, a home and a place to belong; a new family and a new beginning not only for the people of Arus, but for the people of the Galaxy Alliance as well. How can I not feel proud to have saved this planet, watch it come to life under our guardianship and actually push back one of the Drule kingdoms to a standstill? They cannot take this planet and its resources; they cannot leave us behind their lines, so we stop them here.

"Then I found the love of my life, someone who looks behind my face, and my size to see the person I am underneath. That. . .that-I find the most incredible part of this planet. These people, through it all have kept true to their values and to their past. They do not dwell in bitterness. Oh, individuals do, but in general the people learn from the past but look to the future to what they want for their planet. Even now, they combine magic. Now there is something this plain engineer had a hard time accepting, magic; a kind of energy which escapes my ability to measure it, to see it, to somehow quantify the phenomenon. It does not follow a pattern, not genetic, not familial. It shows no intelligence but yet something picks and chooses among the people who receives the magic and in what amounts. A young lad has more power than three other people combined, and an old woman has only a trickle yet does the most imaginable things with small amounts of carefully applied power."

Hunk shook his head, "And there is my Lenna. Blind to magic as I, unable to read most engineer schematics, but the most gifted mechanic I have ever known. She tells me the machines 'tell her' what is wrong so she knows where to fix it. A wonder. And now she already takes our child into our world and begins his education from the beginning. On Earth, families do not take their children into work. Too stressful, too stimulating, children must be coddled, protected, and sheltered from the harsh realities of the world. On this world, they combine the pragmatic with the magical; the harsh realities with the most incredible play. Adults play just as hard as the children, and few have lost the ability to find joy in simple things. Perhaps this is why they have survived when everyone else fails. They find the joy in the simple things; in big doggy piles of children in bedrooms, in fixing a small problem, in the unexpected treats of a cookie. How much we have to learn from this simple society."

Carefully, the large man shifted until he sat on a piece of wood left for seating at the edge of the lake, avoiding sitting in the wet sand, then stretched his long legs out in front of him, crossed at the ankle. "Look at that lake which existed a year ago as big mud pit with a few sickly creatures hanging on to life. Today I see a beautiful lake complete with fish, bugs, and other assorted creatures. The people decided they needed not only a place to relax but a place to grow another food source and within month, they had built the piping to refill the lake, reestablished the stream to feed it, and seeded it with animals from some of the remote places in the world." He shook his head, "Amazing and something I could not imagine happening on Earth." He fell into silence and began tossing his stone from hand to hand, falling into another contemplative silence.

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The numbness started to recede. Barely noticeable, but felt none-the-less. Fingers opened and the swinging bottle fell with a quiet thump to the sand below. It teetered a moment on its edge then fell over with only a whisper of sound to lay snug in a divot of its own creation.

Freed of the burden, the figure commanded the disembodied hand to reach for the second bottle, sitting conveniently to the side, cork loosened in readiness. It felt odd to watch the hand grasp the neck of the bottle and see the tendons tighten and the knuckles become prominent from the pressure of closing around the bottle and then lifting it. With only a small wobble, the bottle drew near to the face and mouth. Teeth closed over the cork and worked with lips to spit it some where on the sand nearby.

The bottle tipped upward and the welcome burn of liquor rushed down the throat, leaving a trail of warmth all the way to the stomach. Eyes closed, savoring the harsh, raw feeling of the alcohol willing the blessed numbness to return and wishing it possible without words or conscious thought to stay forever sitting in the sand, listening to the gentle chatter of a friend.

For some reason, the bottle began to feel very heavy, so the hand let it rest next to the leg on the sand. A gentle tugging on the bottle indicated another wished to partake of the blessings so the hand released the neck and the comforting pressure against his leg vanished.

The hand forgot it had held the bottle and moved to caress the wooden box resting on the thighs, gently tracing the inlay on the lid. Finally, eyes opened and gazed at the box and the finger moving over the picture. With a barely felt, resigned sigh the box opened.

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Hunk gently drew the bottle from his friend's unresisting hand, taking a healthy swig of his own. He grunted at the burn as the very raw alcohol scorched a path down his esophagus. "Bleah." He held up the bottle and squinted at it. "How you drink this crap, I just do not know, mon ami." With a deep breath, the yellow pilot tipped the bottle a second time, then a third, wincing slightly less with each swallow. "Then again, once it burns all the skin off your throat, it goes down much better. Lenna better not kill me dead when she gets a whiff."

His friend did not respond and had started tracing the top of the box. Sighing, Hunk tipped the bottle and let most of the remaining alcohol run through the sand toward the lake, hoping the potent brew did not kill the fish. "Huh, wonder if fish can have hangovers? That would make an interesting test."

With a final swallow, he watched as his fellow pilot opened the box and slowly drew out with few items, touching them reverently before putting them back in the box. Hunk wondered if the tears falling down were felt, or gave any kind of release. Tipping the bottle one last time, he left a hefty swallow in the bottle, and returned it to its place in the sand, looking back over the lake.

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The tears fell unheeded as the first of the items gleamed in the moonlight. The delicate ring had only a single small diamond set in the thin gold plated band. The groom could not afford better, but the bride had treasured it more for the sacrifice it took to purchase it. The matching men's ring had no gems, but loving hands had engraved a pattern into the thin metal.

The rings returned to rest together in their portion of the divided box and the right hand drew out a small scrap of fabric. A thumb rubbed the cream colored imitation silk for several minutes before returning it to the box.

A shaking hand drew out the last item; a small holographic projector. It took two tried before the fingers pressed the play button. A long list of names scrolled in the air. It became hard to breathe.

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Tsuyoshi remained quiet and watchful. When the projector started playing, he stopped fiddling with the rock, attentive to the signs of a panic attack brewing. When beads of sweat began forming on his friend's forehead despite the chill in the air, and the rough breathing became ragged, he quickly pulled a medical pen from his pocket and unceremoniously jabbed it into the nearest body part he could reach, the right thigh.

Deactivating the viewer, he replaced it in the box and gently put the box into the backpack. Turning back, he saw the remaining alcohol in the bottle had vanished, and the bottle dropped next to the first in the sand. Hunk picked up the bottles and added them to the bag and then the picture frame. Meanwhile, his friend sat with arms crossed over knees, head resting on the juncture, trying to force lungs into a normal pattern of breaths.

Standing, holding his hand out to his friend, Hunk waited patiently for understanding to penetrate his friend's brain. After a long minute, his friend reached out and Hunk pulled his comrade to a standing position, who then looked down at their linked hands without comprehension as to the function of the linked hands.

Sighing, Hunk pulled free his hand, picked up the bag, and then gently turned his very inebriated companion toward the castle. "Come along, o drunkard one. Time to find your quiet bed and then pray Lotor or his father does not have an armada en route to hit the planet tomorrow."

Nodding, the drunkard allowed Tsuyoshi to act as the guide toward the castle. The two weaved a more or less straight path toward the postern door. A guard opened the door as the two drew near. "Corridor's clear, sir. You've a straight shot there."

Hunk nodded in appreciation-the fewer people who knew of tonight's episode, the better for morale. In a few short minutes, the pair had arrived at a door waiting open, with a bed turned down, a carafe of water and one of juice on a table near the bed, along with another injection pen. Placing the backpack carefully on a chair, he steered the pliable pilot to sit on the bed, removed shoes, and then pushed his friend to a laying position with a gentle hand on the shoulder.

With a sigh, the drunk snuggled into the pillow, and quickly fell into a alcohol induced slumber. Before drawing the covers up, Hunk picked up the pen to inject a vitamin shot to ward off the inevitable nasty hangover. With his friend covered, the tired man ensured no alarms would sound, walked to the door and turned off the lights.

Plodding wearily, he returned to his own quarters a few doors away. Shucking most of his clothes in the living room, he tried to sneak into bed with Lenna. She stirred as the cool room air brushed over her as he lifted the blankets. "Tsuyo?"

"Shh sweetheart, go back to sleep."

"Hmm, did you. . ." came the sleepy reply.

"Yes, tucked in with a vitamin shot, water and juice waiting."

"Always feel so bad." Lenna's voice slurred as her consciousness faded. "Must feel so alone sometimes. So glad. . ." her voice faded to a whisper. "has you."

Hunk curled his cool body around her warm one, thanking his lucky stars for the bright spot in his life. Drifting off to sleep, he sent a thought to any gods listening to find such a match for his friend, fellow pilot, and hero to many.

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Author's comment: I realize the construction of this may feel alien to many people, especially with the ambiguity toward the gender and identity of the figure on the beach. I did this deliberately for two reasons:

I actually cannot tell you which of the other member's of the team chose to sit on the beach. I have valid stories for each of Swen, Darrell/Pidge, Keith, Allura, Romelle and Coran.

I liked the challenge of writing without gender!

Feel free to ponder who is sitting there and why!


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